


Homesick For Dandelions

by LadyPoly



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: A sweet kiss, Affection, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Friendship, Gen, Guilt, Homesick, M/M, Mishalecki - Freeform, Mishas live stream inspired, Regret, Sexual Content, Support
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-08-24 03:48:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8355862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyPoly/pseuds/LadyPoly
Summary: Misha aches for home. Feeling over whelmed and reflecting, having taken off from set--Jared finds him feeling upset. He offers comfort like he has no doubt Misha would do for him. Meeting somewhere in the middle, a bad day has a happy ending when the men give one another exactly what they need.





	1. Homesick for Dandelions

**Author's Note:**

  * For [freeagentgirl](https://archiveofourown.org/users/freeagentgirl/gifts).



> I mean no disrespect to Misha Collins, Jared Padalecki or their families. I am aware of their wonderful lives and friendship, but sometimes inspiration happens.  
> Inspired from the livestream creek videos and this:  
> http://an-insomniac-assbutt-minion.tumblr.com/post/152206111295/destiel-is-cockles-fault-potterisscared
> 
> Dearest Readers,
> 
> It would appear that not only were several of my works copied and posted as someone else’s and that a few people I trusted have also stolen ideas, images created and scenes.
> 
> Should you compare my stories to something I have not said was inspired by a prompt, or that someone has stolen, in the comments of the story please share it with the link, or the place it was and the writer's name or username. I will do what I can to contact them on my own if I need to. Please do not engage them yourselves. If I need help, I will sound the bat signal ;)
> 
> While I have dealt with the people involved the best I can, with the help of loyal reader’s and friends, I have to ask that you please keep this in mind. In the last several weeks it has become very clear to me that the majority of fanfic writers don't understand plagiarism. Stealing ideas without crediting, borrowing quotes, etc and claiming it as your own-- plagiarism. A form of fraud. You cannot take something blow for blow, change the setting and claim that either. An homage is also not done this way, and if you believe so-- it’s still a form of plagiarism.
> 
> When you cite the fandom, the characters etc, you show that you have given credit for the idea. What the writer does next if not stating a prompt and it’s source is their own. The canon ideas are given credit, the divergent is their own.
> 
> Now sometimes similarities inspired by scenes happen, but there is no reason why a comparison of the two should be clear. There is no reason for one writer’s voice to still be evident if you were inspired by their story while claiming your own idea.
> 
> I want to say this didn’t anger me, or hurt me but it did. It infuriated me and to be honest, I didn’t know if I should continue.
> 
> If I am slower to post things now, it is only due to feeling unsure. I am very sorry.
> 
> All my love,  
> LadyPoly

Fall is Misha's favorite season. It's a bittersweet burst of color before the gray settles in, the rains more frequent and chilled. Sometimes there's snow. You were never quite sure what you're going to get once it all starts and for now…he just wants to hold onto this a little longer.

Vancouver is such a different experience than being in the States, it has a way of giving him a sense of calm that California just cannot provide and always stirring within him a different feeling than Washington does.

Picking out a place to sit along the stones, the water around him like before, Misha finally tries to shift the tension from his shoulders. There's just something about this place he's discovered in his wanderings, something that always calls him back when it all gets to be too much.

He lets the current tickle his fingers as he dips them. He misses dipping his feet in it when the weather was warmer, losing himself in the cold it offers, the feeling of sand between his toes as the water grew murky around them. He shrugs as he shakes the droplets from his bronzed skin and fingers.

Breathing deeply, he can't help but feel grounded here, connected, as he sits still and observant. The leaves are changing, and the smell of earth is heavy, thick. The air has changed, too. It’s cooler, carrying a different scent and a new feeling as it kissed and greeted his skin when it playfully danced around the towering trees, above the free flowing water and teased the ever growing grasses and shrubs.

Settling on the same rocks he had days prior, sharing the view with thousands of fans, the worn out actor tries to forget Castiel, forget himself. Out of all the places he's been since working on Supernatural, this one is quickly becoming his favorite as he gives in wholeheartedly. There's something about the sounds here, the quiet that speaks to him from the trees, from the blue and clear tones of the water and the stillness in the sky. It all makes him feel like it whispers softly, murmurs positive things to his weary mind, his yearning heart and his restless soul. 

Staring out, he squints against the warmth of the sun bearing down on him, warming his back through his raven colored hoodie from the most recent campaign. It's soothing, comforting as he pulls it around himself, burying his hands in the front pocket. He thinks of home, the feeling of hugging Maison and the love resonating in her laugh--of holding Vicki close against him when he's curled around her and all is right in his world again.

Closing his eyes he swallows thickly--willing away the sickness for home. He leans forward, shifting as he pulls his legs up. He does what he can to blend in with everything around him, ignoring the vibrations of his phone. He doesn't want or need it right now, he doesn't want that virtual leash connected and tugging around him with a sharp snap. He lets the water sing to him, banish his growing unease and sadness. He claws at his jeans, waiting to feel calm. Sometimes Misha wishes he could let his worry, his doubts and his negativity just wash away and leave as easily as the water carries itself forward, always moving and changing things slightly. After all, water is strong, stronger than even the rocks it caresses as it moves past them. Another moment as it all just keeps going forward, moving on. Strong enough to wash his negativity away where he could not do so himself.

“This is becoming something of a habit for you, isn't it?”

Misha shrugs as he hears the familiar sound of heavy footsteps against the ground where the person walks up behind him. Blue eyes flutter against the palette of colors, settling on a comforting hue of emerald and golden flecks full of kindness when he looks up.

“It helps.”

_What else is he supposed to say?_ It's been days like this now, just a feeling he can't shake. He isn't really sure why he's feeling off, if it's still the stubborn cold that doesn't want to leave or if it's a combination, of sorts, that makes him long for home and the sad feeling heavy in his chest. He just knows that whatever it is, this place helps chase it away for a little while.

Misha watches the large shadow cast across the water as the younger man settles in beside him, his body not occupying the rocks quite as gracefully as Misha seems to. Jared watches the older man rest his hand on his knees as his chin settles atop them, his blue eyes illuminated in a beautiful way by the colors of tangerine, merlot, cinnamon and gold. They seem to hold them inside, swirl the depths of warmth he's come to know after all these years. Misha is his friend, a brother and sometimes maybe even a teacher, even when he doesn't mean to be.

“Jensen is worried about you. We thought you'd live stream but then you didn't answer any of our calls for the past hour--so he went and checked your apartment.”

The young actor takes in the scenery around him, peering over the edge of his penny colored sunglasses. Misha doesn't physically react, he looks far away from where they are as the Texan clears his throat.

“When he said you weren't there and no one on set had seen you--I thought I'd try here.”

Jared fusses with a button on his shirt in their silence, the bright apple red of his flannel blending in with the fall colors. The daisy shade of cotton t-shirt is already clinging in places against him, the truck hot on the way over. 

Jared glides a hand through his hair and frowns, “I'm worried about you, too, man,” he says softly, “You've been...quieter lately and…we love you, Mish. If we did something--if I did something, I'm sorry...”

Misha sniffles before coughing slightly. This stupid cold definitely isn't helping him feel any better. He shifts to appear less guarded and turns to face his young friend, “It wasn't you or Jensen...” he replies softly, hoping to sound genuine.

His fingers settle to graze Jared’s wedding ring in reassurance, causing the younger man to look away from the water and at the cerulean eyes studying him. He gives Misha a soft half smile and places his hand firmly over his friend’s, swallowing it in his grasp and squeezes gently.

“Do we have to Winchester someone for you?" Misha finally smiles at the warmth in Jared's voice as he asks and chuckles softly. He squeezes Jared's hand back gently. Misha shakes his head. He looks so sad.

“I'm just so tired, Jare...” Misha looks back towards the trees across the creek, “Like the kind of tired that sleeping just isn't helping to alleviate and I think it might be making me slowly insane...” 

Jared removes his sunglasses when Misha lets go of his hand, his chest twists at the look in Misha's ocean blue eyes. Swallowing roughly, the younger male licks his lips, pondering what to say. Jared clears his throat, a habit he assumes he’s probably well known for by now, both in and out of character, “I…I get it,” he shrugs through a half smile as he fiddles with his hands, “You try everything to make it go away and it just seems like nothing helps and by the time you realize it, you're always on the verge of half crying or screaming and you don't even know why.”

Misha snorts, indicating he's hit the proverbial nail on the head with the hammer. Jared leans into him, resting his chin on Misha's hair and curling one of his big moose arms around his friend’s deflated posture.

Misha relaxes, turning from the creek to bury his face into the soft feeling of the candy red flannel as he uncurls inside Jared's affections. His young friend smells the same as he always does, high endurance and Old Spice, and a little like the soap they wash their wardrobes in at work from Sam's coat. Misha can feel his emotions getting the better of him as Jared's warm hands seep through his fabrics and into his arm where he's rubbing it up and down.

“Been like this for a while…”

Misha's tone sounds embarrassed as Jared closes his eyes, inhaling the scent of cinnamon--once again feeding off of Misha's energy, even if it wasn't the spark it usually was. The truth is Misha was a rock for people even when he wasn't trying. A person who on some level understood the dark parts of Jared, and maybe even Sam, the ones that he tried to avoid. Misha had other sides, too after-all. Jared had heard the stories--hell, he'd even seen the scars. He holds Misha just a little tighter. It may look like they do nothing but goof around on set, joke and prank one another--but that didn't show everyone all there was between them. They were all someone else when it came to being away from the personas people were used to seeing.

“Ever since Gish, you've been a little... “Jared turns the words carefully inside his head, “...open, we'll say, about your insecurities. With every video you seem to let something new slip or show a side to you that people rarely see, us included.”

Misha feels a pang of guilt at Jared's statement, waiting in awkward silence as it's all pointed out to him. Jared shifts to see Misha more clearly. His emerald mossy eyes soak in the golds around them, full of concern for the older man. A quiet calm settles around them, one Jared has gotten used to when the cameras are off and prying eyes don't have access to one Misha Collins. It's a change, a flip that few get to see. He stills, becomes an entirely new person that resembles more of Castiel than people normally give him credit for. Jared's arm hangs loosely around Misha's back and hip, the long fingers and warmth of Jared’s hand brushing against the denim of his thigh.

“I can't stop thinking about the dandelions…” Misha closes his eyes as his voice fills Jared with saddened feelings.

Misha rubs a smooth pebble between his fingers, tossing it with a quick flick of his arm when the irritation in his body language is evident. The stone skips on the water, three times--once more before it sinks into the water, the ripples eventually swallowed back into its stillness and quiet.

“Dandelions?”

Misha nods, eyes still peering out at the water like it's supposed to be so obvious. Jared feels strange as he tries to grasp how a tiny yellow weed could cause such a disturbance in his blue eyed friend. He watches the lines in his face and once again finds comfort in just observing him like he does Jensen. Sometimes he admits Misha was lost to him or did lose him, he was so smart and at times, bizarre, but also inspiring and vibrant. It was odd at first when he didn't know him, sometimes annoying, but that's just what you got. Misha was just...Misha. It didn't mean everything was logical or planned, however.

“Maison, when we were leaving the park, made a wish for just that moment. All she wanted was just us and those stupid flowers and I had been so quick to rush them away--so quick to take it from her. She's four and it caught me so off guard…it's sort of haunting me...”

The older actor chokes up, “I know my kids are wonderful, smart and growing up, but that just made me realize how much I'm missing, more than anything I ever have…how much I don't want to miss them anymore or their moments, even the ones that maybe aren't so great.” He pauses, head lowering slightly as he stares at his hands. “I feel so fucking--”

Misha's voice catches, his hand clenching into a fist as he tilts himself deliberately away from Jared's prying emerald eyes. He chews his lip as he holds back the feeling eating away at him. Misha clears his throat again and blinks away the tears he can feel biting bitterly behind his eyes.

“I feel so damn guilty all the time for the things I'm missing out on…for the moments I wanna be with Vicki when she sounds so tired and defeated or lost about what to do with two growing kids whose wings want to spread so far already...”

Jared glances downwards and away from watching his friend as he takes in the serenity of their surroundings. He tries to hold onto the feeling of this place rather than the ache Misha's words are stirring inside him slowly. 

A breeze rustles past them, dancing through the trees as it leaves its breath upon their skin. More silence, and it unnerves Jared slightly. Jensen doesn't usually let it stretch out this long, or at least it seems he and Misha always fill it when they’re all together. Raising Jared's spirits together. Jared doesn't usually have to cheer Misha up, the blue eyed actor usually does that for everyone else. His presence and energy usually calming and infectious. One can't help but feel safe and genuinely cared for around him most of the time.

Jensen is like that as well and Jared tries to be a lot like them, to project those feelings, even when he's feeling anxious and perhaps sad. He loves them--both of them. They’re his family and his home away from home. The three of them tend to draw things from one another, be it chemistry or drive--something bonds them all together beyond Team Free Will that none of them would trade for anything in the world. At least Jared knows he wouldn't and he'd die for them if he had to.

“Shep has been coming out of his shell more. Gen said the other day that he wouldn't stop talking to the twins while he was with Danneel. He kept telling them he was excited to meet them and that he was going to share all his toys and hug them harder than even JJ...”

Jared scoffs softly, trying to divert the waver of emotion in his voice.

There's a familiar sting in his own eyes as he finally looks at Misha, “I understand man…it's a tough gig but we wouldn't be able to do this without you--without Castiel. It's all of us as far as I'm concerned, right to the end, or not at all.”

Misha's hand feels cold from the stones he'd been skipping as he grasps it firmly. He watches Misha's profile as his lips tremble slightly. It takes mere seconds before he can see the tears begin to slip down the actor's face. Jared's heart breaks.

“Oh, Mish…”

Misha swallows harshly but it doesn't stop the shuddering breath he takes, desperate for control, as his chest seems to burst wide open. Jared pulls him in for a hug, one that feels like it touches his soul as he protects him inside his arms like Jensen does for him. Like Dean would do for Sam, like Cas would do for Dean. Like Sam would for anyone, if they needed it.

“It's okay, Mish…”

But it isn't. In fact, it hurts and the words break all the control Misha thought he had as he makes an agonizing, breathy noise into Jared's shoulder. Jared never thought he'd ever see the day that a moment like this happened to Misha Collins. It's both terrifying and yet--there's a bit of a warmth in knowing he's trusted enough to see it, to try and offer comfort when he needs it.

Jared holds him tighter, shifting closer on his perch as they’re crushed together. He rests his chin against the other man's soft locks of hair and waits. He's still, his hand stroking up and down Misha's back, against the stormy black hue of his fall hoodie, in time with the movement of the highest spruce trees he can see in the distance around them. They’re mighty, towering and Jared welcomes the feeling of being reminded just how small he really is. 

He listens to the water, constant and always moving. Water was his favorite element because not only did it give life, it was powerful, too. It could both cleanse you or poison you. It could either give way for something to grow beautifully or destroy everything in its path. It could take out those trees as they reached for the sky, break down even the largest rocks and stones here, given enough time. It was so fitting for always making a choice with the day, to be the positive and try to avoid the negative.

Jared sighs into Misha's dark locks and inhales their sweet scent. Funny he should think of that as tears finally broke Misha Collins as well. He always saw him as so confident and strong, sometimes it was hard to remember just how much insecurity was buried underneath all of that--how much he really felt and didn't outwardly show till it sometimes bubbled over.

“You know I love you, right?”

Misha is silent, sniffling softly. He clears his throat, having calmed somewhere in the passing time Jared was lost in thought, never moving from the comfort and support of his tall companion’s arms.

“Of course…” Misha's voice is small and quiet, his hand tugging off a piece of fuzz from Jared's sleeve before his arms slips around Jared's waist, “I love you, too, Jare…always will.”

Jared smiles and presses his lips into Misha’s hair. He nuzzles his cheek against Misha gently, “You’re an amazing father, Misha…it really shows.”

Misha's jaw tightens for a moment as he breathes in deeply. Jared closes his eyes, “It's true, Mish. Don't you ever doubt it. You've done a great job raising them, teaching them values and about life,” Jared smiles, emotion bubbling up inside him, “If I turn out to be half as good as you are all around…I'll know I did something right.” 

Misha stiffens. Closing his eyes, he can't help but feel honored and terrible at the same time. How Jared ever thought, on any plane of existence, that he still wasn't good enough or wasn't already amazing, hurt. He feels angry inside, brow furrowing slightly. Anxiety and depression were awful. Battling demons like that is so cruel and unfair, especially in someone so bright and full of life. Pulling away, he sees the compassion, concern and care so clearly telegraphed on his friend's face as Jared gingerly thumbs away a tear from Misha's cheek. He offers Misha a sad smile.

“I don't know what to say, Jare, other than it hurts to see you still think so lowly of yourself.”

Misha watches the flecks of gold inside Jared's eyes as they shine like the surface of the water around them. Leaning forward, Jared closes his eyes as Misha's lips gently press against the corner of his mouth. It's warm, and slightly cool as their skin brushes together softly.

Jared swallows. It wasn't uncommon for Misha or himself to be affectionate. This, though, felt new, like something both equally heartbreaking but also so full of love and appreciation. Misha's forehead rests against Jared's as it once again is all about the sounds around them, finding a calm--together.

“Jensen is probably ready to send an army out for you by now…What do you say to tea and a ride back?”

Misha hums in reply as Jared pulls away. Once again, Misha takes Jared's hand. They leave, helping one another back over the rocks, playfully nudging the other here or there. Misha's mood seems better and for that, Jared is grateful.

Jared is the first on the bank, Misha sounding a bit out of breath where the drop off by the sand that lays beneath the grassy edge. Misha coughs, Jared realizing it's been weeks now that this cold’s been hanging around before the older man makes an off sound. Jared turns just in time to see Misha lose his balance from a coughing fit that lands him, ass first, into the creek. The water turns murky and he turns away from the droplets that head his way. Jared winces as he turns back to find Misha's entire lower half, up his back, and everything up to his elbows on his hoodie, dark and heavy with the cool water. Misha shivers, looking both annoyed and defeated before he shrugs heavily.

“Fuck, that's c-c-cold.”

Jared can't help but smile as he leans down to help him out of the water. Misha's fingers are like ice when he pulls him into an upright stance, sopping and dripping water onto the sand around them.

“Today just isn't your day, is it?”

Misha looks down at his now pretty much soaked everything and sighs as he brushes it all with his palm harshly. It does nothing alleviate the damage done.

“Definitely want that tea now... ”

Jared chuckles as he pulls Misha up the bank ledge and onto the grass. It's an effortless move, both of them clasping one another's hands and strong. Misha's teeth are chattering when they reach the large black truck despite Jared trying to curl himself around Misha. He feels guilty as he peers at the interior. Jared shrugs.

“Don't worry about it, Mish. Just a truck.”

Misha frowns as Jared pulls a coat out of the back seat and a towel. He covers the seat, nudging Misha inside and slips the jacket around his friend's shoulders as Misha rids himself of the black hoodie. He shudders, but is comforted by the smell of the coat around him. Jared wrings out the hoodie the best he can before closing the door firmly. Misha leans against the window where it's cool and sighs.

What a day.

Turning the vents as he starts the truck, Misha is grateful for the heat that blows out towards him when Jared moves everything around before sending a text, he assumes, is to Jensen. The sun has warmed the cab just enough that it's pleasant and comforting. The sky is dull around them, the sun lower in the sky than when Misha first wandered off in search of anything to ease his weary mind. Jared slips into traffic and Misha is eager for his Vancouver home.

Misha has to admit that crying did help, even if he hadn't wanted it to happen. He's just glad he left work when he did. Jared seeing him upset was one thing, but the whole crew? He'd never live it down. Still…He wonders if maybe it's not time to make some changes. He's never missed them like this before and right now, he just wants to hide away.

They ride silently, Jared glancing at him every so often as Misha stares out the window and rubs at his arms. Jared ponders the time on the clock and realizes he missed lunch when they first went searching for the missing actor on set. Still, he worries. He's never seen Misha upset like this before and it feels wrong. He needs to see him smile, anything but this. It hurts him, he can't imagine how Misha must feel.

Reaching the apartments, Misha is only slightly disgusted by the wet sopping jeans against his skin and a little chilled when they reach the door. Inside of it, Jared grabs his hand as Misha slips his shoes off. The warmth of Jared’s fingers surround his own, firm and demanding his attention but in a gentle manner all at the same time.

Their foreheads meet. It's a short moment, one that seems to slow and create a spark between them as he presses into it. Leaning down, Jared captures Misha's shivering lips against his own and for a brief moment--everything fades away.

Jared's smile is contagious when they both start to laugh. He's not sure why he's laughing, but it bubbles up and out of him. In fact it hurts, because now Misha can't stop but it's worth the pain in his sides and the warmth in his chest when he finally catches his breath. Jared finally stops a few seconds later wiping at his eyes. 

Misha beams, feeling lighter, “Thank you, Jare...”

Jared smiles at him, full of warmth and nods. That was definitely more like the man who won a place in his heart.

“Anytime. Now, go shower while I raid your kitchen. I make no promises on there being any cookies left for tea when you come out. Missed lunch looking all over for you.”

Misha walks away shaking his head. Jared watches him until he hears the door close. 

  
  



	2. I Wish for This....

 

_What just happened?_

 

Despite the age of the apartments, there’s a groan in the pipes when Misha turns the water on that Jared can hear from where he leans against the counter that’s pressing into his back awkwardly.  He pauses, eyes focused on nothing specifically, blankly staring off into space.

 

_He kissed Misha. That’s what happened._

 

When he’s sure Misha isn’t coming back out for something, he pushes a breath past his lips, running his hand through his hair in a moment of bewilderment.

 

It isn’t that he’s uncomfortable with his sexuality, not in the slightest, but despite their joking, their playfulness and friendship--Jared's never full on kissed Misha before. Not like that, not with so much... _intent_. Now, Jared can’t let go of the feeling curling his stomach. First, the worry when he started searching for Misha, then the shock when Misha cried into his embrace, and now, now….this.

 

Today was full of surprises.

 

Jared sighs, slouching his shoulders as he does so. He certainly didn’t hate it. In fact, he kinda liked it, a lot, but it’s…confusing. It wasn’t like it was when he kissed Genevieve, not even close, but it wasn’t like when he jokingly kisses Richard or the others at times either. This was something new, something random and different. Thrilling, yet comforting. It suddenly reminds him of summers in Texas and teenage angst. The thought makes him chuckle softly, his stomach rumbling to remind him once more, sustenance is definitely needed.

 

By the time steam fills the hall from his shower, Misha finds Jared in the kitchen reading tea bags, his shirt pulling up slightly to expose his hips and back when he reaches for the deepest part of the shelf where he knows Misha hid the lemon cookies from him. He gives a happy sigh, shoving one into his mouth in victory when he catches Misha watching him in a white cotton shirt and low-slung plaid pajama pants. Jared tilts his head at the wild appearance of the man's dark hair and beams, brushing crumbs from his shirt as the kettle boils.

 

“Feel better?” he manages, still swallowing the last of the cookies as he does so. Misha nods, the corners of his lips raising upwards. Jared keeps smiling, “I’m glad.”

 

“Me, too.” And Misha means it, stepping forward as his bare feet pad quietly when he walks. He reaches through the space between Jared’s arm and side for the cookies, snagging one before they're gone. He catches a whiff of musk again, his stomach flip flopping. Their arms touch briefly.

 

Jared realizes he’s suddenly so close and can’t help but watch Misha bite into the soft center of the sunshine colored cookie. He shifts, clearing his throat. He needs to do something, anything before he gets caught watching Misha’s lips again.

 

_We need cups for tea._

 

Jared moves around Misha, awkward in his nervousness--their elbows bumping again as he fails to move gracefully. Misha smiles, amused greatly. Perhaps he should have kissed Jared first, then they wouldn’t be awkwardly dancing around one another. He chuckles when Jared grazes his head on the cabinet door. Jared is an adorable flustered Moose at times.

 

When the cups have settled on the granite, Jared spoons the honey into them, ignoring the way Misha seems to be watching his hands move with the task.

 

“Are you alright, Jared?”

 

Jared nods, grateful he can still hide behind his hair when he wants to. Misha hums, a sound Jared isn’t sure of.

 

Turning, he finds Misha inside his space once again. He freezes, both of them studying the other’s eyes, orbs full of cerulean blue and golden olive. Swirling full of thoughts, full of words. Jared wonders what Misha is thinking when the older man leans upwards and into him, his lips brushing the corner of his mouth.

 

It’s gentle, like Jared’s made of glass. He lets out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.

 

“Thank you--for what you did, Jared. Not just anyone would have figured out where I was or have done what you did.”

 

Jared’s shoulders relax. “You’d have done the same for me…”

 

Misha looks up at him, staring again, studying, and Jared wonders how much is really in that head of his. How much he knows and how much Misha still tucks away from others.

 

“Yes. I would have.”

 

Jared smirks, and just like that he finds Misha’s wrist -the skin soft, the space around them smelling of lavender and peppermint from Misha’s soap, honey from the cups nearby. Jared is watching Misha’s neck move when he swallows and then…it happens again.

 

A spark. S _omething_ Jared isn’t sure he can describe as their lips meet, pressed more closely this time as he tugs Misha closer, melting into it. Misha hums, a soft sound escaping his throat before they break apart.

 

Whether Jared’s heart beats in that moment when they both look at one another through glassy, dizzy eyes--he doesn’t know. Then just like that, he does it again, spinning Misha to lean him into the counter and Misha returns it with every ounce of curiosity and adventure Jared does.

 

It always was just like Misha to meet him all the way and never lazily.

 

From behind them, the kettle gives a low whistle before screeching, but with the warmth of Jared’s hand on the back of Misha’s neck, the feeling of Misha’s hand in Jared’s hair, neither one is moving, stopping or letting go.  

 

By the time it’s loud enough to finally demand attention, the shrill of steam through the kettle is all Misha can hear. Jared laughs softly, cheeks tinged taffy as he pours the water into the cups. They steam the bottom of the doors above, a damp mark against the cream colored wood in the natural lit kitchen.

 

Jared watches Misha, the way he stirs the honey in with the floating pomegranate tea bag, and the slight pink to his cheeks since they broke apart. Jared chews his lip slightly between his teeth as the silence hovers, the stove burner ticking briefly, echoing around them as Jared takes the first sip. Apple cinnamon always did just seem to transition summer to fall for him, reminding him of pumpkins and hayrides. It calms him, clears his head, as the clock on the wall chimes.

 

“Do you and Gen...have arrangements?” It makes Misha feel silly, it’s not as though it isn’t something he’s asked before--but he’s never asked Jared, despite their open conversations, the knowledge of him and Vicki, her book. Jared thumbs the rim of his cup, eyes fixated on the spoon laying in droplets of deep colored caramel tea.

 

“We’ve had talks about the drunk flirting and touching...curiosity and jokes,” Jared’s cheek warm, heat beneath the collar of his candy apple shirt. “We’ve…yes, we have arrangements.”

 

Jared clears his throat, the nervousness evident as he shifts. Misha smiles at him, a look that seems predatory, and it does all sorts of things to his chest. There are too many butterflies suddenly occupying the space beneath his rib cage.

 

Setting the tea down, Misha’s hand, both soft and yet rough in spots from wood working at the same time captures his and tugs. Jared meets those depths again, blue like the oceans he’s seen in his travels, and his cup makes a clink against Misha’s. Discarded and forgotten.

 

Following Misha’s lead, which to be honest, feels more natural than when Jared led him from the river--Jared finds the world suddenly cut off, the sunshine settled across the neatly made linens of Misha’s bed. Collapsing against it, fumbling to remove most of his layers, he finds himself in its warmth, the smell of clean cotton. Beside him Misha is smiling, lit up in gold.

 

Soon, as if drawn into it, they’re a tangle of limbs, lazily wrapped around one another and Jared stays grounded in the space between teenage fantasies that feel like a lifetime away, and the heat of Misha’s body against his own when his lips once again meet Misha’s in a slow rhythm.

 

It’s not as sexual as Jared would have thought. Instead, it’s laid back, sweet and encouraging, gentle.  Jared has no idea what this is, or why it suddenly feels so right, but he’s grateful for it.

 

He thinks of the moments before this, the uncertainty and the grief. Jared, definitely without a doubt, likes this Misha better. He feels okay, he feels happy in his energy, in his movements with Jared and that is enough for him to feel okay and happy too.

 

Gasping a few times, teeth clashing in their exploration, there’s a tingle that zings along Jared’s spine. His stomach flutters in anticipation of what’s to come and every time he tastes Misha on his tongue it makes him hungry enough to dive back into the waves moving over him, deeper and deeper each time it happens.

 

Time seems to slow down as they lose themselves in it. Jared could swear it stops, perhaps it even breaks altogether when Misha shifts, letting them part as he breathes deeply. The whole world is suddenly silent, all of Jared in the moment as he slows his breathy pants and dwells on the excited beating of his heart. It pounds in his ears as if trying to escape the containment of his ribs.

 

Misha coughs momentarily like he did on the rocks, suddenly realizing a lingering cold is sort of a mood killer when the shower steam wears off, his face buried in his arm and the bedspread. He sighs, flopping into the pillow dramatically. Reaching up he strokes the hair from Jared’s face, admiring once again those eyes, so unlike anyone else’s, the world shut away behind them, the way they speak louder than Jared ever does. They’re beautiful and so is he.

 

Jared moves, nuzzling into his fingers and straddling Misha’s legs, adjusting his weight and threading their hands together. Leaning down, Jared trails butterfly kisses against the bronze of Misha’s skin, affection in every kiss as he maps out his temples. Misha’s eyelids flutter against Jared’s lips as he works his way down to the bridge of Misha’s nose, bumping them together playfully as he finds Misha’s lips once more. The gesture makes Misha groan deeply.

 

That sound stirs things in Jared, both of them still mostly clothed but exposed and suddenly there's something both thrilling and terrifying about that all at once. What Jared wants though, that’s even more surprising, as he lets his eyes take in the body spread out beneath him. Somehow, it makes sense that it would be Misha.

 

Misha knew sexuality, after all. Knew that things didn’t have to fit into boxes. Most of all, he knew this would be whatever it was and he would never hurt him with it or judge. Misha is too kind for that, and with that reassurance, Jared’s shirt falls to the floor with confidence. He’s relieved when Misha exposes himself as well and his shirt lands with a soft rustle against the hardwood.

 

“Can I touch you?”

 

Misha’s eyes darken, like clouds before a storm over the sea and the lust is evident even as they still seem to show affection. Misha nods, licking his lips and with a shaky hand, Jared trails the tips of his wide spread fingers over the muscles of his friend’s stomach like he’s seeing it for the first time. Misha shivers, Jared’s fingers are hot to the touch as he goosebumps in reaction.

 

Watching them break out in all directions from where he trails the muscular structure of Misha’s core suddenly makes Jared feel a sense of power. Every time Misha’s ribs expand in a gasp or his stomach tightens briefly when his eyes flutter and his lips part for the soft gasp Jared causes, it becomes more and more addictive than the last movement did. It isn’t like it is with Genevieve or the woman before her--this is something different and he likes the beauty of it. He wonders if this is what he looked like to his lovers when they did this to him before now. When Jared slips a hand up against the front of Misha’s throat to feel him swallow, the man below him moans low enough Jared can feel it rumble from his chest. There’s no denying that sound went straight to his dick and Jared realizes that his breath is quicker than it was when they started.

 

Misha closes his eyes, his hand finding Jared’s hip bone, his thumb stroking it softly at the waistband of his briefs. Both of them seemed to pause, cautious. The ball is clearly in Jared’s court, and right now he definitely wants to play.   

 

Closing his eyes, Jared shifts forwards, his lower body connecting with Misha’s as he swallows the gasp from the friction when they kiss deeper than before. Jared’s body feels as if it bursts into flames, his veins burning as the blood courses through him.

 

It’s slow, cautious even. Jared is being careful, their movements reminding Misha more of waves along the ocean than anything else. Steady, constant and slower, almost lazy, teasing even. It’s dizzying. Jared makes him feel young again, and with that thought comes an urgency as the rush of memories wash over him.

 

“Jare…get them off.”

 

Jared blinks, sort of floating in the feeling of Misha meeting him whenever they gravitate into each other’s space, when they touch, their now entwined hands and arms helping to give them leverage with each movement. He’s so hard watching the muscles in Misha’s arm work, it takes a moment before he finally realizes that Misha means their remaining cloth confines. He’s tenting in the worst way, the fabric showing a damp spot where he’s pearling pre come.

 

Jared gets Misha’s off first, the navy garment falling somewhere over his shoulder as the other man’s groan resonates in the room, his own mouth watering when everything looks to be the same color, the same golden bronze the rest of Misha’s body gets in the sun. Jared practically vibrates, squirming out of his own shorts with an almost clumsy look to him as he kicks them off somewhere near the side of the bed. He’s drooling, and Misha looks just as hungry as he feels.

 

“Look at you. I mean, I kind of knew already, but… _fuck_ , Jared...” Misha’s breath catches, his voice strained as he takes in the look of the man before him. Misha’s hands immediately roam over Jared again, pulling them both together as he grinds into Jared mercilessly.  It produces fireworks between them when their arousals finally meet, slick from their anticipation.

 

Jared didn’t know he could even make a sound like that when he finally hears it and it’s hot even to him as it tears out of him without warning. Misha sounds like he’s practically purring at it, approving and the praise makes Jared feel light headed.

 

“I’ve never…” he huffs a breath, straightening up, a hand in the middle of Misha’s chest. Jared rolls his hips forward and Misha makes a choked sound that’s one of the most beautiful things he’s ever seen happen from the man, “This feels amazing.”  Misha’s hand rests on his thigh, shifting to rub at him and Jared trembles.

 

“You have no idea,” he growls back, and Jared whines when Misha wraps those hands around his cock and strokes it skyward. Jared’s head tilts back as his eyes roll back into his skull, and Misha matches every snap of his hips with equal rhythm.

 

After a few more minutes or perhaps even lifetimes, Jared isn’t quite sure, his body seems to disconnect from his brain and he comes with Misha’s name on his lips harder than he has in years. If he were about to be worried about keeping it together and how long he lasted, he figures he’s safe when Misha comes seconds later, looking blissed out and sounding practically feral.  Jared falls forwards, landing mostly beside the older man as they catch their breath.

 

After a moment, Misha rubs him down with what he figures is the white t-shirt Misha had discarded when they came in here and Jared chuckles.  When he hears it hit the floor and the weight of his co-star sink into the bed a second time, Jared rolls Misha into him. He nuzzles at his neck, leaving soft kisses against Misha’s jawline and up to his ear as he snakes his arms around Misha lovingly. Misha fits in the crook of his neck like a piece of a puzzle, and though he thinks perhaps it should be weird, something so random like this...it just feels right. There isn’t another word for it.

 

Behind them, an entire city moves forward as they lay still. Elsewhere their phones blink, texts from set, from Jensen likely, but neither one dares move. Besides, Misha quite likes Jared’s gigantic paw in his hair, his own fingers twisting the ends of Jared’s at the back of his neck. The younger man's heartbeat is slowly lulling Misha to sleep as they just simply be, eyes heavy as Jared seems to cover him with his size, his heat like the strongest rays of sun. Perhaps he should fall ass end into cold fall river beds more often.

 

“I never expected...this,” Jared muses, voice cautious and unsure, “Seems rather random, even for you.”

 

Misha chuckles softly, his nose nuzzling Jared’s collarbone, “Don’t think too much about it. I’d hate to ruin such a perfect lazy afternoon. I don’t have many bad days with perfect happy endings, ya know, and this really was...comforting.”

 

Jared smiles, pressing a cheek into Misha’s hair affectionately, “You think this is perfect?” Jared says, voice breathy, and Misha nods, moving to bump his nose against Jared’s, to peek once again at his ever changing emerald eyes, “Why?”

 

Misha’s eyes soften somehow, full of warmth that makes Jared mouth go dry. “Sometimes I need to stop and make wishes on dandelions, to stop buzzing around and wasting the seeds. Today, I wished for this.”

 

Jared swallows, “Me?”

 

Misha smiles, burying close again, “Something that felt like home.” Jared scoffs, a smile on his lips.

 

_It does feel like home._

 

Jared makes a mental note to wish on dandelions more often when he’s homesick.  

  
  


 


End file.
